Moments Between Scenes
by Hoenn Master96
Summary: A random word challenge I set for myself revolving around the relationship between Byleth and Mercedes. The moments between the time on screen and in battle; some tender, others, less so.
1. Chapter 1

Random Word Prompt Drabbles

A Fire Emblem Three Houses Fanfiction

By Hoenn Master

_**A.N. Not my usual style, but I have a lot of desire to write for this pairing, albeit I will go against the fandom preference most likely, if the volume of fanart is anything to go by. My plan is to have six or so chapters of three scenes each, and if I feel the need to extend the collection I will do so. Unless explicitly stated, none of these drabbles will be anything more than very loosely connected. Some will be before, some after the time skip, or even the events of the game.**_

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**1\. Explosion**

In the midst of the chaos of the assault on Garreg Mach, Mercedes worked tirelessly to keep as many of the wounded stable as she could, hands covered in blood and gore, some of it her own. Her uniform was soaked in sweat, tears, blood, and other, nastier substances. As she ran alongside a retreating wagon carrying wounded, she noticed the mint green of her professor's hair turn from leading the organized withdrawal, and disappear into the nearly panicked crowd. With a lurch, she nearly tailed after him, but before she could properly see where he was going, the cart lurched, and the wounded man she had been tending groaned in pain. Uncharacteristically, she hissed in frustration; she had hardly been able to see Byleth since they had shared their dance in the Goddess Tower due to the whirlwind of revelations, betrayals, preparations, and classes. Despite the relentless professionalism of Professor Byleth, she saw in him a tenderness and kindness that lurked behind the seemingly empty stare. She had every intention of giving him a letter on Graduation Day detailing her deep care for him, and, perhaps, the affection she was starting to harbor.

Alas, such was not to be. When the dragon dropped seemingly from nowhere and roared its challenge to the invading army, her stomach dropped.

When Mercedes saw Byleth sprinting into the fray where the beasts dueled with terrifying power, her eyes widened and she felt sick.

When the explosion of magic, blacker than the darkest pitch, more powerful than anything she'd ever felt, and more evil than she could comprehend detonated, all she could do was scream silently as Byleth, her once professor and had things turned out properly, potential lover, fell over the edge of the cliff.

The shrieks of Rhea were nothing compared to the quiet sobs Mercedes let out as the monastery fell, and she was forced to return to her 'family'.

* * *

**2\. Consider**

Byleth hummed in thought as he paced around his room Garreg Mach. His clothes were impeccable, his hair properly groomed, face shaven, boots polished, Sword of the Creator safely hung on his hip and secure. He stopped pacing and chuckled to himself. If he'd known seven years ago that he would become a professor, help lead an army to topple the Adrestian Empire, be appointed Archbishop of the Central Church, and be getting married, he'd have probably cracked one of the few smiles he'd ever worn up until that point. Possibly even laughed. As it stood, he barely considered himself qualified enough to hold any of the titles he had been given. But, in all honesty, he was most concerned about the one he was about to take on of his own free will. That of husband.

It was no secret at this point that he and Mercedes would wed; after his disappearance and subsequent return, the two had been nearly inseparable in their admittedly sparse free time. Relief, joy, and sorrow for the time lost gave way to admiration, affection, and the serious consideration on his part of just how he managed to catch the eye of a woman so gentle, kind, and beautiful both within and without. He'd been told her family situation; indeed, he'd seen it for himself with her stepfather's attitude morphing from indifference to outright groveling in short order. It was safe to say there had been no love lost between his soon to be wife's family and himself when he stated in no uncertain terms that he opposed the despicable actions perpetrated by Mercedes' stepfather, and the complete lack of action on her mother's part to end the madness.

Byleth sighed lightly as the heat from the memory left him. He promised himself that he would always consider Mercedes' feelings before any decision regarding her or the family he hoped to raise with her. She deserved that much, after a life of no such control or care.

Uncharacteristically, he felt his lips lift into a soft smile as Dimitri opened the door to his chamber and entered, followed by Dedue and Felix. Regardless of circumstance, he knew that even if he had next to no family of his own, and hers was terrible at best, they both had their friends to fall back on. After all, are they not the family you choose?

The quartet left the chamber with hardly a word and set off towards the cathedral, and a bright future.

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**3\. Lecture**

Byleth idly wondered if he had missed a memo at some point as he winced lightly from the vulnerary-soaked cloth pressing into a gash he'd received during their latest, and quite successful, raid against a particularly stubborn set of Imperial forces in the southwestern end of the recently re-conquered kingdom. The reason for his idle wonder, however, lay in the person applying said healing salve.

Mercedes was red in the face, and not from any sort of bashfulness. No, she was nearly irate, though quietly so, as she scolded him once again for his foolishness. She had been prepared for the blow, and, indeed, had everything under control, but something in Byleth snapped as he watched the axe fall, and he'd gotten himself a nasty wound for his trouble.

At length, Mercedes sighed and put the salve aside. "Byleth Eisner. What am I to do with you? I appreciate your help, but my battalion was ready if anything should have happened."

Byleth sighed. "I know."

Mercedes simply shook her head, showing a rare display of her annoyance. "Really, Byleth. I know I may still call you 'professor' in public, but our Academy days are behind us. Besides that, I'm a grown woman who has fought in more battles than many soldiers."

Byleth's expression didn't waver. I hardly did, but even for him this was a display of determined stoicism. "I'm aware, Mercedes. I…" his expression softened considerably, for a brief moment showing the vulnerable side that Mercedes was reasonably certain only she had ever seen. "I can't bear the thought of you getting killed. I've lost enough people, Mercedes. Losing you in this war would be more than I could bear."

Mercedes sighed deeply and smiled, placing a hand on Byleth's cheek. If she noticed the mistiness of his eyes, she said nothing of it. "And the same is true for me as well. I suggest we take a page out of Felix's book and see about training one another, yes? It's a morbid thought, but that way, if either of us must die, then the other would surely follow. If we do it properly, though, neither of us would have to worry overmuch again. Still, such thoughts aren't healthy. Neither are the sweets we make for tea, I suppose, which is why indulging in either to excess is dangerous. Therefore, despite your attempt to divert me, I do believe I will have to cancel our next two tea breaks; as much as Dimitri has improved he still needs help sometimes when it comes to uniforms."

With that, she departed in a flurry of skirts. With a sigh, Byleth slumped his shoulders. Since when was he the scolded schoolboy and she the professor?

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_**A.N.**_

_**Thank you for reading. I plan on an update every few days until my planned chapters are expended. Afterwards I'll slap the completed tag on. I may or may not add to the collection after that point, but I will lean towards no at present. All reviews are welcomed.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Random Drabbles Chapter Two

A Fire Emblem Three Houses Fanfiction

By Hoenn Master

_**A.N.: Part two. Not much to say. Hopefully my work gains some semblance of traction. Thank you for reading.**_

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**4\. Pocket**

It always was a point of fascination for Mercedes to watch Professor Byleth flit around the campus of Garreg Mach, doling out lost items, gifts, or a kind word with everyone. It was only a moment of inattention, she later insisted, that she tripped on a loose paving stone and began to fall into the lake. With a scream she started to fall.

Only, there was no cold wetness.

Mercedes opened her eyes slowly, realizing that the new professor had managed to catch her wrist and save her an embarrassing dip in the lake less than two months into the year. It only just occurs to her as she blinks owlishly a couple of times to straighten her skirt and hair to properly introduce herself. Formal class meetings meant little, and if she'd been honest she had shied away from the intensity in Byleth's eyes as he taught. But, he deserved a proper thank you for his actions.

Byleth waited as she organized herself, and she idly wondered if she'd lost anything lately, or had done something other than embarrass herself in front of her new professor to cause him to be close enough to save her. Just as she curtsied and opened her mouth to introduce herself, Byleth produced a finely crafted but still portable tea set out of one of the pockets of his cloak. It seemed only a trick of the light, but she could have sworn for a brief moment Byleth's expression changed from its usual stoic to amused. "Would you care to join me for tea, Miss Mercedes? Perhaps it will take the edge off of that narrow miss."

Mercedes' mouth dropped open slightly in surprise. She hadn't suspected the new professor of liking tea. It seemed at odds with his mercenary background, but seeing as she'd just been saved from an embarrassing spill, she smiled. "I would love to, Professor, though you don't strike me as someone who likes tea."

This time she knew she saw it; a flicker of a smirk on the professor's face, a brief flash, but unmistakable. "Judging books by their covers often leads to missed information, which is dangerous in both politics and on the battlefield. Now, from what I have seen of your baking skills, you have a preference for sweets, yes?"

Mercedes' eyebrows disappeared into her bangs as she nodded. This level of animation was not typical of the direct and intense, but passionate professor she'd observed in class. The change intrigued her.

One tea session turned into two, and then soon enough, it became their ritual which persisted long after they had ceased being professor and student.

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**5\. Past (A loose continuation of Pocket)**

Mercedes hid her nerves well, or at least, she hoped so. Some weeks into her now regularly scheduled tea parties with Professor Byleth, she finally decided to bring some of her favorite pastries, made by herself in the kitchens that very morning. At the time she'd thought it only fitting that Byleth provides the tea and she the confections, but as Byleth sat down she grew more and more unsure under his curious gaze towards the platter. In fact, it reminded her of the first time she'd served this very recipe to the man who became her stepfather... She shuddered at the memory. If only she'd known then what she knew now, she'd have dragged her mother away and never bothered.

Byleth, for his part, raised an eyebrow at Mercedes' twitch, his gaze changing from the delightful-looking pastries and focusing on his friend slash student. In a moment he noticed her discomfort and tried to soften his expression; it was difficult unfreezing the natural almost-scowl from his face while deep within his own mind. Still, Mercedes now seemed to look torn between a giggle and a cringe. He probably had a strange look on his face.

Mercedes finally settled on a half giggle. "I'm sorry, Professor, but are you alright? You look uncomfortable."

Byleth sighed and relaxed his features back into their natural state. "My apologies; you seemed ill at ease and I tried to soften my expression. I've been told I'm a bit intense when I'm thinking, so I decided to make an effort to change that. Speaking of which, you don't look very comfortable yourself. Would that have something to do with these unusual treats?"

Mercedes started lightly; no matter how often it happened, it frequently floored her how quickly people dismissed Byleth's social awkwardness as ignorance; it seemed he was more or less aware of his effect on others. Still, she knew trying to dismiss his attention now would only end in ever increasing pressure until she finally broke. As much as others failed to see it, she could tell that, despite his intensity, he cared deeply for every student, and not just those under his care. She had seen him sit for over an hour in front of poor Bernadetta's door, calmly talking to her with his back pressed up against it, telling stories and somehow getting her to tell him about her love of embroidery as Mercedes had passed on her way to the Cathedral for evening prayers.

She supposed that was why she sighed deeply and nodded slowly, allowing her usually excellent posture to slump and show her true tiredness. "Yes, actually; they're my mother's recipe. It's been passed down in my family for quite some time. I haven't thought of her in quite a while, and they bring back memories."

Byleth nodded, looking once again at the treats. "I see. Those memories don't seem happy, if you don't mind the observation."

Mercedes chuckled mirthlessly. "No offense taken. My mother and I… We don't see eye to eye."

Byleth's expression remained unchanged, though in Mercedes' opinion, there was a change in his eyes. It looked almost wistful. "I see. That is a shame. I'm sorry you and your mother are on such poor terms."

Mercedes blinked. The tone Byleth had used was not one she was familiar with from him. It seemed the mercenary turned professor had much more to him than anyone seemed to know. "Professor? Are you alright?"

Byleth shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly. But, a woman of her experience in helping others could tell he was more affected than perhaps even he himself acknowledged. "As you likely can infer, my mother is deceased. Killed by my birth. My father never blamed me for her death, but it is easy to tell he has never been quite the same since her loss, even to one who has never known him in such a state. The change in him when he speaks of my mother is palpable; he seems to shed fifteen years whenever he speaks of her to me. His reluctance to inform me of anything regarding the Church, its functions, and especially Lady Rhea has also caused me to question much of my past. I have a feeling there is much more to my existence than a knight falling in love with a religious servant and marrying her. But, well, father is being tight-lipped and I hesitate to approach Lady Rhea with my concerns."

Mercedes' eyebrows disappeared into her hair as Byleth began to unload his burden, even if only slightly. While she deeply respected Jeralt, it was becoming apparent that his relationship with his son was distant, though loving. It made her long for the ability to be able to speak with her family on a whim and not question if she would be a bargaining chip in some arranged betrothal afterwards. Equally, though, it dawned upon her that this may be the only time Byleth allowed himself to be vulnerable in any way, and she was floored it was for her.

Tea and food forgotten, she stood and walked to the other side of the garden table, mind set on what needed to be done.

Byleth watched her stand, curious eyes widening as Mercedes strolled right up to where he was sitting and enveloped him in a brief but incredibly warm hug. It lasted only a second, and Mercedes herself flushed a deep red before coughing and making an excuse to depart for the rest of the day afterwards.

Byleth said nothing, mind processing what had happened even after the tea had long grown cold and the pastries stale in the evening air.

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**6\. Deserve**

Could one person deserve such happiness? The sky was bight, cloudless, and more beautiful than she had ever seen. Either that or her appreciation of the sight simply was increased. The flowers were in full bloom and the myriad of colors, shapes, and scents was intoxicating. The guests were prepared, the ceremonies in place, ready to be carried out. Annette, Ingrid and Dorothea all fussed around her, ensuring not a thing was out of place. What went ignored was the lack of her mother in the room. What also went unsaid was the lack of her father to give her away, or her brother to support her.

But these things mattered little; Gustave, who had retaken his name and home at Annette's insistence, was to give her away, and there were few in the old Blue Lions on par with Dorothea when it came to cosmetics and appearance. Gustave's involvement was, as Annette put it, because if they were sisters in all but blood, it would only be fitting for her father to step in when Mercedes' own proved entirely unsuitable. Mercedes smiled into the mirror at that memory and lowered her bridal veil just as the organ music began to play in the cathedral, cleaned and suitable for services, albeit with a skylight.

It occurred to her just as the doors opened and she instantly spotted Byleth standing at the altar, but in truth, it wasn't just one person attaining the happiness she had been experiencing. It was Byleth as well. And not just him, but their whole circle of friends got to enjoy the joy of the occasion, too. She saw Felix actually sniff slightly from the corner of her eye as she stepped up to the altar, where Byleth stood waiting in his own dress clothes.

Yes, one person may not quite deserve such happiness, but then, it was lovely thing that both Mercedes and Byleth were doling out their happiness to everyone as well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Fire Emblem Drabbles Chapter 3**

**A Fire Emblem Fanfiction**

**By Hoenn Master**

_**A.N.: I must say it's a bit strange not seeing any reviews. Though not entirely surprising. For those who followed and gave this story a favorite, thank you.**_

_**Onwards!**_

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**7\. Feed**

Mercedes smiled kindly as she stepped into the large mess hall of Garreg Mach. The year-end off-season had arrived, comprised of current students returning home and new students arriving early for the dormitories, or else reserving their places. This left the mess hall, predictably, empty, save for some guards enjoying a meal, or the odd student who had yet to leave. As was her preference, Mercedes quickly took a position behind the counter and pulled on an apron, smiling to the aging cook as she set to work preparing a truly massive cauldron of soup. Anyone who was not aware of the new tradition might have looked on curiously.

Since Archbishop Byleth's appointment two years prior, his wife had taken it upon herself to manage much of the charitable arm of the Central Church; while it was as much of a bureaucracy as it had ever been, it nevertheless was distributing more money than it had been in the last ten years, and the people were far happier.

Mercedes hummed happily as she added a spice to the soup Dedue had given her for just such an occasion; a plant from the first harvest in one of the newly revitalized fields of Duscar. The scent rising from the pot was most excellent by this point, though the guards simply smiled in their helmets as students looked at one another in confusion.

That was when the first few beggars came. At first, the students seemed in shock when the haggard and weary-looking old couple came in. They wrinkled their noses a bit when a smelly man walked in, and weren't sure what to feel with the exhausted young man with three children equally tired all but crawled into the door, and more besides.

Nevertheless, the staff all greeted every person who came in with a kind word, and a basin to wash some of the grime away while Mercedes herself served helpings of her soup to the horde of people. While all of the students were familiar with Mercedes' desire to help the destitute after the war, and several had tagged along with her giving alms and bread and on occasion soup when the chill set in. It was less known that she, for one week in the year, opened the mess hall for the local poor to enjoy a meal, warm themselves, and clean up somewhat.

Byleth, for his part, took pleasure at the joy Mercedes took in bringing charity to the forgotten and marginalized of society. She was veritable angel of mercy in the wake of troubled times. Annette's nickname for her was most apt, indeed, and he was more than happy to use the church's resources to help Mercedes fulfill her lifelong desire.

His observation made, Byleth strode into the room wearing plain clothes and began to help Mercedes with her task; he might be one of the most powerful people on the continent, but he would never allow himself to forget his roots. The couple smiled at the satisfied and relieved smiles of those around them.

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**8\. Article**

Byleth observed the sword before him intently. Stronger than any metal he was familiar with and lighter, but still with enough heft to it to end lives. By all accounts, it was balanced well, sung like a war maiden when drawn, and deeply, irreconcilably, unequivocally, wrong. The material felt off. So too did the way Rhea had reacted when the crest stones and relics were nearly stolen. There was more to this ancient article of the greater artifact collection than met the eye, and it disturbed Byleth immensely. He felt connected to the weapon. Holding it, using it, feeling it, all felt more natural than his own personal weapons he'd trained with since childhood. It was unnatural.

Contrary to popular belief amongst some staff members, he was very much capable of emotion and feeling. Showing such was altogether more difficult. Too much and people avoided the individual. Too little landed him where he was on the current social rung. Near the bottom one, namely. Regardless, he thumbed the edge of the blade resting on his desk, expertly touching the material of the blade in such a way to avoid injury, but also retain enough pressure to truly understand the sharpness and precision in play.

He sighed deeply and looked to the window of his office. Another late night. With a shake of his head, he turned back to the blade. The hole within the blade itself seemed to have once contained something. Most likely a Crest Stone, if he had to guess. With a careful bit of concentration, the blade almost hissed and fell to pieces, revealing the many links of the blade. They almost resembled vertebrae, if he looked closely. Byleth, the Ashen Demon, shuddered internally. Such weapons were not natural, and their power beyond the likes of regular mortals. Small wonder Crests were so valued.

He sighed and released his influence over the blade, causing it to magically fuse back into a cohesive whole once again. A blade which was broken, yet whole; separate, yet one. An intriguing prospect of apparent contradictions. It seemed he and the blade indeed were meant for one another; neither truly complete, yet neither were truly broken, either. Byleth held a hand to his unbeating heart. A pulse, but no heartbeat: whole in exterior, but hollow and devoid of life. Perhaps one day he would understand what it is like to have a heartbeat. To feel the rush of battle, and the gentle lurch in one's chest when one lays eyes on their lover.

Byleth shook his head. Such thoughts of lovers and family did him little good. They always tended to stray towards Mercedes, and that way lay a caltrop-laden field of bad thoughts. If his parents' gravestones were any indication, she was older than him, but even still, he refused to leverage his position of authority in such a way. Perhaps in the future, but certainly not mere months away from graduation.

But the thoughts continued to interrupt his examination of the Blade of the Creator, and at length, Byleth rubbed his face furiously to rid himself of the pleasant notion of asking Mercedes to have a picnic with him in the fields at some point. Sothis watched on, mildly amused at Byleth's unusual behavior. "You'll hurt your eyes if you're not careful."

Byleth let out a single quiet bark of laughter. "That would be far from the worst thing that's happened this year."

Sothis simply sighed and shook her head. "Appropriate or not, Byleth, you can't deny that you're an unusual case. I'm still a little shocked you are doing as well as you are as a professor."

Byleth sighed and nodded slowly. "It is… Irregular. In truth, I much rather would be a student. It was the far simpler and more appropriate choice. Perhaps I could have been given a promotion after I actually was a known entity, but not before. Lady Rhea's actions continue to baffle me, even now. Why do I have this sword? Why am I, a random mercenary, allowed to hold something so precious? And why is it whenever I have this sword in her presence, she seems connected with the blade?"

Sothis simply shrugged as she floated behind him, examining the blade for herself. "I… Am unsure, but I can sense something from this blade. Something deeply rooted. Something important, but whenever I begin to think of it… It just slips away, like grabbing at smoke."

With a sigh, Byleth sheathed his new sword and hung it on the weapon rack he kept near his bed. This whole situation was a mess. His father, dead, killed by some kind of organization bent on the destruction of the stability of the continent, the killer still on the loose while he had to play mind games with Rhea who flatly refused to give him an explanation as to why everything seemed to be happening. Seteth was hardly better, though he at least seemed genuine in his ignorance. Dimitri's mental health was beginning to concern Byleth as well. A precarious situation that was a couple of bad days away from homicide if not for the Blue Lions and the various students who had since transferred into his house. He was falling for Mercedes, who hardly seemed a student in his eyes due to both her age and her wisdom, which did little to assuage his internal guilt. And finally, he was certain now that Edelgard was hiding something big. The collaboration between her and that Monica girl had been suspect from the start. With a sickening realization, Byleth had a feeling that Edelgard was a far more dangerous entity than anyone seemed to realize. The only solace remaining now was the notion that he was simply paranoid in his late-night exhaustion.

He blew out the last candle keeping his room alight, got into his bed, and did his best not to wonder if he were right as his consciousness drifted into the realm of dreams and fantasies.

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**9\. Dawn**

The weary caravan slowly trundled along; the army matched on, exhausted, but ecstatic of the recent developments. The evening previous had been nothing short of another day in a week of massive celebrations, all in the wake of the final battle of the five year long struggle the continent had been groaning under. Edelgard lay dead and buried, the shadow cult behind her which was discovered in some paperwork in her desk being hunted by the Church, and the people rejoicing at the prospect of peace once again.

Byleth sighed as he watched the trees roll by, remembering fondly the morning he had walked this very trail with Dimitri, Edelgard, and Claude. How different, and yet similar, things had been. He turned briefly to make sure the other occupants of the carriage were still asleep; they were. The wagon was transporting the stable wounded who had yet to recover from the incredibly potent dark magic from the practitioners from Those Who Slither in the Dark. Felix, chest tightly bound from a powerful blow, twitched as the carriage hit a pebble, but did not stir. Annette had been tending to him all night, but fell asleep some time ago, and was slumped over a crate holding bottles of vulnerary, snoring quietly. In a surprising bout of social contact, Bernadetta fretted over Ferdinand, the young man having leaped in front of one of Edelgard's blasts of magic for her, and was recovering as slowly as Felix. For all her lack of social participation, none would dare to say anything of her presence in the cart.

Byleth looked down at his own arm, bandaged and stiff; he'd only just managed to avoid taking the full brunt of the commander of the mages, Myson, but running him through had been so satisfying, much to his own surprise. He was one of the few enemies he'd actually felt anything about killing, quite possibly because his organization had killed Jeralt, and also caused the suffering of Duscar. Byleth turned and looked out the corner of his eye to check up on Mercedes. While she hadn't suffered any significant wounds in the battle thanks to her uncanny ability to sense when evil magic was about to strike, she nevertheless remained to help those who were not so skilled, and more than one member of the army owed her their lives.

Byleth smiled as he watched the golden-haired healer sleep peacefully, a book open on her lap as she dozed. Her hand lay to her side, right next to his own, unblemished hand. With ease born of a desire to finally allow himself to express in some small way what had been growing inside of him since he had awoken after his five year coma, he lightly took hold of Mercedes' hand, enveloping the small, yet incredibly strong hand in his own. It was a warmth he had not dared to cultivate beyond brief tastes on occasion since his reunion with Mercedes, but he could relish it now. The war was over, and he had every intention of asking her to marry him. His mother's ring lay heavy in his pocket. He knew what he would do.

But in the moment, he simply enjoyed the closeness as he looked out the front opening of the wagon. There, in a clearing, the first vestiges of the sun's rising could be made out through the trees. Dawn had come to Fódlan, and he had every intention of this being the first of many peaceful sunrises with his dear friends.


	4. Chapter 4

**Fire Emblem Drabbles Chapter 4**

**A Fire Emblem Three Houses Fanfiction**

**By Hoenn Master**

_**A.N.: I deeply appreciate all of the favorites and follows; thank you to those who enjoyed my humble work.**_

_**Onwards with another chapter!**_

* * *

**10\. Morning**

Mercedes, as it turned out, wasn't quite a morning person. That did not at all stop her from being determinedly cheerful even when her hair, which she was letting grow back out now that she would no longer need to worry about it being grabbed in battle, was a mess. Even when her eyes refused to adjust to the light, and especially when her newly wedded husband of just over a month was already up and dressed at or even a bit before dawn, but still took the time to give her a kiss good morning. Never mind the fact that they were both inevitably called to attend to their duties as two of the most powerful people on the continent. In that moment, they were simply Byleth and Mercedes, not the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros and the Head Administrator of Charity and Alms-giving. Mercedes could certainly live with an early morning if it meant seeing Byleth's slightly disheveled bed head, and the other little moments of humanity beneath the stoic veneer he maintained with everyone else.

The usual pot of morning tea awaited her as she rose from the luxurious four-poster bed afforded for their station. She yawned hugely, and though it was unusual of her to be so forthcoming, the fog of the morning still permeated her mind, and she ignored the slight breach of decorum. With a sigh, she stretched and adjusted her nightgown to be more dignified, and finally properly got out of bed. Nevertheless, she pulled on her robe to ward off the morning chill, and relaxed into the comfortable armchair in front of the fireplace next to its twin, which Byleth occupied.

Byleth smiled, somewhat teasing as he passed a cup of piping hot breakfast tea to his wife. "If you would prefer, I can let you sleep until later in the morning, Mercedes."

Mercedes blinked as the scent of the tea began to rouse her sleep-addled brain into something more akin to awake. "Hmm?"

Byleth indicated Mercedes' robe, which was inside out and backwards. "You may want to fix my robe. It's on backwards. Not that I mind terribly, but you might later when you need to get dressed."  
Mercedes looked down, and indeed, she had grabbed her husband's robe and somehow managed to put it on exactly as he'd described. Her face flushed somewhat and she took a deliberate sip of the piping hot goodness before responding. "Perhaps I enjoy the comfort of a warm chair at my back and a robe at my front?"

Byleth simply continued to smile. "Perhaps. But nevertheless, you may want to wear it properly; it is laundry day and the servants will need to come in soon. The choice, though, is yours."

Mercedes simply rolled her eyes good-naturedly and smiled herself. In times past such a thing as this would have mortified her, especially in front of Byleth, but since she had been married to him, he took every little incident in stride and even with amusement. Though she wished she wasn't quite so thoughtless in the mornings, having someone who could catch her before she did something like walk out of their chambers in just her nightgown or similarly indecent was a significant blessing, indeed. With a slight sniff of feigned indignation, she set her tea onto the table set between the chairs and stood, correcting the robe just as someone knocked on their door just loud enough for them to hear. With a chuckle only Mercedes could hear, Byleth allowed his expression to settle into its usual impassive state before speaking.

"Enter."

A young lady, one of the new sisters recently taken on as the monastery finally began to return to normal, opened the door and pushed a cart laden with a delicious-smelling breakfast as well as the much less welcome morning paperwork and agendas for the rest of the day for both of them. "Good morning, your Excellences. I've brought you breakfast and the morning schedules as asked."

Mercedes smiled kindly and took the cart. "Thank you, Martha. I will be down as soon as possible for morning prayers."

Byleth simply nodded in agreement as the young sister simply bowed and exited the room, looking a slight bit starstruck.

Mercedes sighed as she passed Byleth his laden tray and took up her own. "Another busy day, it seems."

Byleth nodded as he took a sip of his own tea. "Indeed. But we can get through it as we always do, no matter what happens. I'd never be able to do this on my own, and having you with me makes it all worthwhile."

Mercedes felt a light dusting of a blush on her cheeks as Byleth spoke, if only because he was always saying such things throughout the day at the least expected of times. Still, she reached over and patted his arm. "I couldn't imagine a life without you by my side; as I've said, such happiness doesn't seem possible, but it is. I can do everything I've ever dreamed of and more, all because you chose me."

Byleth smiled, truly smiled, and took her hand in his. "Then let's get to work on spreading our happiness to the rest of the world."

Mercedes sighed almost theatrically, but nodded and helped Byleth to his feet. "Very well then; here is your half."

With that, she passed her husband his pile of paperwork while retaining her own, and together, they began to work on their duties, hands still entwined.

* * *

**11\. Crack**

Mercedes sat at a comfortable table resting on the balcony of the third floor garden. The table was comfortably placed in such a way as to allow shade during the late morning hours, but no so much that one couldn't look out the crenelations to have a most excellent view of the grounds and territory outside of the walls. Byleth had already left to attend to his duties as Archbishop, but Mercedes for a change had little to trouble her that day. And so she sat, ruminating as she looked at a particular area of the grounds where the canyon met with the remnants of a bastion in the wall. The crumbled area had been fenced off twenty feet from the edge once the resources could be spared, but the sight was still plain from the vantage Mercedes was now privy to. She shuddered slightly at the memory of watching Byleth be struck by the orb of dark magic those long years ago; it still chilled her to remember the despair of his loss at the time, even so many years later. She sipped at her tea. Many cracks and crevices were worn into Garreg Mach, worn though time or from the battle which saw so many of her classmates dead, and the beloved head of the Blue Lions presumed so. Despite herself, though, Mercedes had a special dislike of that one crumbled bit of cliff, where the weakened rock nearly took one of the only people to truly understand her away.

It seemed almost unlike her, in a way, and in truth Mercedes herself knew it was somewhat irrational of her, but in this, she could not help it. She felt selfish in a way by admitting it, but watching Byleth fall nearly broke her will to go on. In the last moments as he fell, all she could think was that fate would once again take away her source of strength and support; that once again she would be alone in the world. Annette is and was very much a sorely needed friend and pseudo sister to her, and nothing could replace that connection. However, the head of Annette's family did not try to rid themselves of her. She needn't fear constant attempts to marry her off for money and power. Mercedes had. The total loss of family… It was a devastating thing to endure. It taught her much as she threw herself into church service, into learning and the care of others. For by it, she might release some of her burden by easing others'. But when Byleth had come into her life, saving her from embarrassment by preventing her from falling into the pond in the courtyard, she'd found someone who she could truly be herself with. Someone she could confide in and hear honest opinions about her situation; not judging, but from a place of actual care, acceptance, and understanding. She'd heard from Byleth himself of his doubts, his insecurities about his position, and the lack of communication from everyone in authority. In a way, they were both lost and helpless, and yet, they had found one another.

Perhaps that was why she asked to have that area walled off. So no others could fall off the edge like Byleth had and those close to the edge would not suddenly have the very earth beneath them crumble away and disappear into the darkness like she nearly had emotionally. Returning to her family had been one of the hardest things she could have endured, but to do it without the knowledge that there was anyone to speak to who understood her frustration and uncertainty with her stepfather, that was indeed the hardest thing she could imagine.

Compared to the physical damage, the near-shattering of her emotional state that day was far worse than anyone, even Byleth, could know. Until the moment she had rounded the corner of the broken outskirts of the monastery, and she'd seen him again. It had taken all of her willpower not to rush to Byleth's side and kiss him.

Mercedes smiled as she watched some of the orphaned children in the care of the monastery played in the grass near the new fence. For all the cracks beneath her veneer, Byleth had been the one to prove to be an adhesive holding her together until she healed around him and integrated him into herself, in a way. Byleth in turn for herself as well, she suspected. In a way, they exemplified the idea that an individual person was not whole when entirely alone and isolated, but two together could be complete, a salve for one another's wounds, and a much-needed support when the struggles of life proved too much. For all the heartache and struggles, however, it had been worth it.

With a sigh, Mercedes stood and rested an arm on her midriff, which was just beginning to properly swell with the life she and Byleth made, and was thriving within her. Life, for all its shortcomings, was good, and she was all too happy to forget her past pain if it meant forging a better, brighter future.

* * *

**12\. Office**

It was truly amazing how much a simple room could change over time.

Byleth looked around the office he had spent much of his life in. His hair, greyed with age and care, swayed in the light breeze blowing through the opened window. A painting of his family hung on the back wall, with a neatly woven blanket draped over the comfortable chair he had his hand placed on as he took in the room. His official retirement some years previous notwithstanding, he'd finally fully retired, and his last paper had just been signed.

Byleth smiled as he rolled up the blanket Mercedes had made for him when the chill of the monastery had begun to take its toll on his knees. He had every intention of enjoying some fishing while his wife visited their son in Faerghus to see the newest addition to the family. It would be lonely, but he was tired, and retirement was a blessing. Now he could spoil his grandchildren as much as his wife had. Plus he wanted to get to work reading the library of books stored in the personal collection of the archbishop.

As he cleared his desk for the last time, Byleth's mind wandered back to the memories stored in this very room. It was here he penned thousands of letters to officials and lords from across the continent. It was from here the negotiation deal with Almyra was finally agreed upon. It was from this desk that words of wisdom and comfort reached thousands in times of strife and struggle.

If the walls could speak, they would tell of the late nights Byleth spent, huddled over paperwork until Mercedes dragged him to bed. It was here Byleth frequently received small gifts as his children played nearby, always in reach, but just far enough away to allow him some semblance of peace to work. They would also speak of the quiet, loving words Byleth spoke to his family as they headed off to bed, and of the passionate frustrations of ideas long forgotten, plans unimplemented, and a life thoroughly lived.

In short, for as much as the tapestries have worn down in the decades of service, for all of the chairs he has had to replace, the scuffs in the floor sanded, and the faintly visible markings on the walls from children's attempts at murals on the whitewashing, the office remained an ever present sentinel of the unchanging reality of leadership. The mantle and burden that each archbishop before and since himself had to bear.

With a last look around the room, Byleth handed the key to an anxious-looking woman, fair of hair, but with eyes as piercing green as Byleth's own.

"This office is yours now, my daughter. I hope you make as good use of it as I have these many years."


	5. Chapter 5

**Fire Emblem Drabbles Chapter 5**

**A Fire Emblem Three Houses Fanfiction**

**By Hoenn Master**

**13\. Remedy**

_**A.N. Thank you to all who read this, truly. Doubly so for reviews.**_

* * *

Byleth's lips thinned in worry as he paced back and forth in front of the medical tent. While peace had been the watchword since the end of the war in the continent, as Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, he felt his duty was to be on the front lines of stopping the criminal element which had grown up in the absence of regular patrols. Unlike Rhea's often necessary but frequently heavy-handed approach, Byleth understood the desperation many bandits operated under. The loss of so many Knights of Seiros from the long war had left a significant dent in the numbers needed to resume regular patrols, and Byleth's approach was as simple as it was effective at swelling numbers. At each and every bandit group they hunted, it was made known that any criminals willing to lay down arms and submit to the Knights would be spared the hangman's noose, and instead spend their sentence in service to the Order and the goddess. Those who served honorably and without committing any other crimes would then be given a chance to become a proper member of the Order and have their charges dropped. Those who refused to surrender, or who refused to adhere to the rules of the Knights would be tried and meet their fates at the hands of the bailiff.

Effective, indeed, albeit difficult to manage without careful delegation on Byleth's behalf to ensure as little corruption as possible wormed its way into the idea. It was the perfect remedy to the problem of banditry, as all too often the bandits were farmers and peasantry who were driven to it by the mismanagement of the kingdom under the member of Those Who Slither in the Dark impersonating Cornelia. Many who were barely feeding their families were relieved by the unexpected mercy from the Church, while others, believing the Church weak to negotiate, were put down with little mercy. Byleth intended to display the hard but fair nature of his rule as much as possible. It was a hard line to toe, but he would never tire of seeing the relief of families reunited at Garreg Mach, of Mercedes' devotion to the care of others, even with her being heavily pregnant now. Her condition didn't slow her in the slightest as she directed the emotional healing of the continent as efficiently as Byleth directed the armed forces in mending the physical wounds betwixt borders and amongst mountains where outlaws dwelled.

Yet here Byleth was, pacing for the fifth hour going as he once again berated himself internally for allowing Mercedes to accompany him on the last large scale bandit raid of the year, and quite possibly the last one of this scale for quite some time; a small army of knights, new and old, ex-criminal and blameless alike. A fine thing to add to his list of mistakes indeed to allow a woman in Mercedes' condition to travel beyond the walls of the monastery while she was less than a month away from bearing a child. Now he stood, hearing the groaning and strain of childbirth on a campaign in the middle of the desolate Faerghus countryside. Instead of a warm and comfortable room in Garreg Mach, surrounded by midwives and healers, Mercedes had one midwife and a few battlefield healers for aid. Instead of a soft bed, she had a campaign cot in the wintry air of the northern autumn.

At length, Byleth froze when he heard a much more strained cry from Mercedes, and then virtual silence. For a single heartbeat, Byleth wondered if his wife had died, but then, the chatter of the midwife and the healers grew excited and the tiny cry of an infant. Byleth's relief was palpable as one of the medics stepped out into the air and all but dragged him in to see Mercedes, sweat soaking her brow, hair a complete mess, and bloodied rags around her as she held a bundle of blankets to her bosom to suckle. An exhausted smile was on her face, especially when she looked up, heavy bags under her eyes as she slumped in relief upon seeing Byleth, almost equally disheveled, kneeling at her bedside. The only things Byleth was capable of processing in that moment between the three of them was the whisper that his firstborn was a daughter, bearing the Crest of Lamine, that Mercedes was fine as far as anyone could tell, and that they would be left alone for the time being.

It didn't take long for Mercedes to hold out their daughter to him when she had finished with her meal, and promptly fell asleep. Byleth smiled genuinely as he covered his wife in a warm blanket as he found a small stool and sat in it, rocking his daughter gently as she looked around until she too fell asleep, stomach full and as tired as her mother no doubt was.

Byleth sighed in contentment. As stressed as he had been for the last month, he was glad things were going to simultaneously become more complex and simpler at the same time. A perfect time for his daughter to come into the world. She would see the end of this era of conflict and witness the birth of a new era of peace and order.

Byleth nodded to himself. He knew what he must do now. He had to administer the remedy for the pathogen on the continent one final time in the form of his new conscription process, and after that, return and give his family the safest, most comfortable home he could.

* * *

**14\. Parade**

The sound of drums and horns blared through the air as the quadruple column of infantry marched in parade colors behind Byleth, who rode beside Dimitri. Both men were flanked by Mercedes and Marianne respectively, who both rode alongside in regal attire, as befitting the radiant, if overly decorative, armor of the two continent leaders. Four huge columns of soldiers in parade dress followed behind the quartet, arrayed to display the various emblems and crests of the duchies and fiefdoms from which they hailed. Most came from the Kingdom, but many came from the ex-Alliance, and a sizable number from the Empire itself, mostly provided by Ferdinand and the allies of his family.

Leading each of the companies of roughly two hundred veteran soldiers were the ex-Blue Lions under Byleth's care. Dedue, as head of Dimitri's personal bodyguard, rode almost directly behind his liege, the rich blue of the uniforms of the men contrasting smartly with Dedue's silver armor. The red and gold of Ferdinand's troops complimented his blued plates and ashen stallion, while the green and gold of the Alliance's representation in the front was led by the ever boisterous Raphael, the brass accents on his armor glistening as he waved to the massive crowd seated atop a mule, the only animal strong enough to endure the long march with him in his armor atop it. Finally, the last stripe in the four columns was the pristine white of the Knights of Seiros, led by Catherine; her battle-worn armor polished as best it could be as she laughed heartily and waved, much like Raphael.

Following behind were each of the members of the old Blue Lions, either leading their own troops or else riding beside the family member who was responsible for their presence. It took several hours for the parade to march all through the countryside around Fhirdiad, but the joy and relief to the people was palpable. It was as the procession crossed into the city itself, a scant few days after accepting Byleth's proposal, that it truly set in for Mercedes that these people were going to rely on her almost as much as they would rely on Byleth. She and Byleth would be responsible for restoring the faith of the people; to give them hope and a reason to live, when life grew to be as difficult as theirs had been these past five years. It both weighed on her and encouraged her that this was the correct course.

As the march came to its end, Mercedes was thoroughly ready to be off her horse, as was most everyone else not used to the strain of a long day's ride. The ball and feast after the parade would come later. With the people being kept in check by the guards, Mercedes and Byleth, alongside Dimitri and Marianne, took to the battlements of the keep of the capital, which led to the balcony traditionally used for weighty matters of state which could not be kept from the people, most prominently declarations of war, peace, and the proclamation of new heirs to the throne. Here, though, it was to show all gathered that Dimitri was alive and well, as well as to give him an opportunity to speak of the end of the war, and the unification of all of Fódlan, of togetherness and the importance of mutual understanding between the peoples of the old nations.

For all his insistence to the contrary, Dimitri was quite a good speaker, and demonstrated this thoroughly to the people of his nation while Byleth and Mercedes looked on proudly, and Marianne waited not far behind him, her own pride and happiness at Dimitri radiating off of her in palpable waves.

It was a good day, a day of reconciliation, brotherhood forged in the fires of combat, and a firm purpose towards the future.

* * *

**15\. City**

Mercedes smiled as she walked down the busy city streets of Fhirdiad, chatting with Annette; the Blue Lions were in a stopover from a long-distance operation for the Church. Annette all but dragged her into the city, and, surprisingly, Professor Byleth was brought along as well. The enigmatic professor walked along, not far behind the chatting pair, roped into carrying a few parcels from the shopping trip. The sounds of peaceful mingling, shouts of vendors hocking wares, and carriages trundling down the streets filled the air with an organized chaos that was somewhat foreign to Byleth's country village sensibilities. Nevertheless, Byleth was grateful for his excellent sense of direction as the trio moved further into the city, twisting and turning almost randomly until they came out into a small square with a fairly large fountain gurgling merrily as various people rested, either eating or chatting with someone as time passed. Byleth stopped as Mercedes and Annette had a seat on a stone bench, and observed the peaceful scene all around. For all the movement, this square seemed to be an island of near-serenity. It made him think of the chaos of his own life in the last five months; the bandit attack which saw him recommended as a professor, said work as a professor being more complex than he'd thought possible around the semi-constant shadow games between Rhea, himself, and those who were hurting his students. It was excruciating, and yet, in this moment, he found a semblance of inner peace. Mercedes, bless her, noticed him preparing to go out alone to do some shopping, and she invited him to join them in a stroll around the city to take in the sights and enjoy not being in class or on the battlefield.

It made Byleth realize that he hadn't taken a proper day off in months, and it felt shockingly nice. The odd sense of peace and contentment in a simple scene as mothers shepherded their children along from shop to shop, elderly men chatting at a pub's outdoor table as they played board games, and blacksmiths' hammers ringing the rhyme of forge and fire.

"Professor?"

Byleth pulled himself from his reverie as Annette smiled and held out a paper bowl of ice cream to him, which he took, looking curiously at her. Annette smiled and gestured to a kind-looking old man performing party tricks for a group of children and a smiling Mercedes using ice magic. The old man seemed to be the owner of a hand cart with bells on it, advertising ice cream, presumably made by the self-same ice magic he was putting on display at the moment. Indeed, with a flourish, he deposited the ice sculpture he'd made into his cart. Byleth allowed the smallest of smiles cross his face as he watched Mercedes buy some decidedly shabby looking children some of the delicious treat, their faces lighting up as she and the shopkeeper urged the children to enjoy it.

This simple scene settled into Byleth's gut and sat there. Mercedes would be a wonderful mother one day. No question. A statement, along the same lines as the sky being blue or water being wet. Yet, Byleth couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted to be a part of that. To have a simple, straightforward existence, uncomplicated by state of his position in life and utterly free to court whomsoever he pleased, if they'd have him. That the person who so often filled that place in his mind was busy handing out ice cream to poor children didn't go addressed. Nor did the nearly imperceptible weight of his mother's ring, attached to a chain around his neck, suddenly make itself known to him.

It was nice, Byleth concluded as the ice cream vendor rolled his cart away, and the children thanked Mercedes and dispersed. While he deeply enjoyed the solitude and quiet of a sunset landscape, there was certainly an appeal to the simple lives of those untroubled by destiny and fate, and how he sometimes wished he could be freed of his duties and obligations to speak these strange feelings he'd begun to develop. But, alas, he was not free, was not eased of his burden. He was a simple professor of a prestigious academy, and he had a job to do.

"We should be off, I think. We will need to regroup before we all settle into the inn for the night. Thank you both for accompanying me, Mercedes, Annette. I hope we will be able to enjoy more peaceful memories, soon."

Annette smiled widely and nodded, while Mercedes turned very slightly pink as Byleth bowed his head lightly to them before turning to lead them back to the Blue Lions' meeting place in the city. As they set off, Byleth could almost swear he could hear Ingrid yelling at Sylvain in the distance…


	6. Chapter 6

**Fire Emblem Drabbles Chapter 6**

**A Fire Emblem Three Houses Fanfiction**

**By Hoenn Master**

* * *

**16\. Clean**

It took three years to at long last wipe away the last of the major scars from Garreg Mach's siege and its subsequent abandonment during the war. Byleth sighed as he put down the sponge on a stick he'd been using to help whitewash the last of the many battlements which had been repaired. With a small smile, he looked on his handiwork before looking out along the grounds of the monastery to see if there was a spot missed. The beautifully restored stone almost seemed to shine in the early afternoon light, even as Knights of Seiros worked to lower all of the cleaning supplies from the walls, and the workers cheered at finally completing their long work. It didn't take long, though, before the workers cleared, the knights dispersed to a well-deserved break, and the religious returned to their daily routines. Byleth, however, remained near the furthest tower of the most remote area of the exterior grounds, a hilltop on a remote pinnacle of the cliff face, which afforded an excellent view on clear days, for both scouting, and also for the casual observer. It was little wonder Ignatz preferred this spot for his landscape paintings before the war, and even after, when he visited on his journeys.

"Hello, dear, everyone else is finishing with their work, but they said you were staying behind."

Byleth turned to face his wife of two and a half years and smiled genuinely before extending a hand to take the blanket Mercedes was holding under her arm and which was drooping dangerously in her grasp. Mercedes came armed with a picnic basket, a blanket, and cutlery no doubt appropriated from the mess hall; the smell of the food within the basket, combined with her most beautiful smile, melted the veneer of stoicism Byleth maintained completely. Without a second wasted, he spread the blanket on the ground perfectly, quickly helping Mercedes sit down on the blanket as he started unpacking the spread as the shade of the tower's long shadow covered them in a soothing shade. Mercedes sighed and rested, a white robes blending pleasantly with the fresh whitewash on the walls, as well as contrasting the green grass with her color.

"Thank you for doing this, Mercedes, but in your condition, is it wise to go so far from other help? I am capable, but the midwives must be having a conniption looking for you…"

Mercedes scoffed lightly as she rested a hand protectively on her abdomen, quite round with child by now, and late enough into her pregnancy to cause both Byleth and the healers worry, though it was expressed in radically different ways. "Nonsense; our child isn't due until the end of the spring, and I wanted to see the last of the cleaning finished. The clergy is already planning a celebration tomorrow, but I wanted to start it ahead of time, before I have to share you with the rest of the monastery and the other guests. It may be a bit selfish, but… We've had so little time together recently, and I couldn't help it. I wanted to see you."

Byleth simply nodded slowly and passed Mercedes a plate of fruit and pickled vegetables as he himself did the same. They sat in companionable silence as they watched the clouds roll by over distant fields and the forest around the monastery. The fields and forest, scarred by the war when looked at closely, hid their wounds with newly grown foliage, the landscape, much like the walls of Garreg Mach, were cleansed by time and work, leaving behind only faint scars of the past, hidden, but forever visible.

It gave Byleth a sense of hope as his hand found Mercedes', and the pair squeezed one another's hands as the gold of the afternoon sun showed the beautiful resilience of nature, as well as showcased the determination of the continent to put the ugly past behind them, and rebuild the peace which was lost.

* * *

**17\. Cultivate**

Byleth stood in deep thought in the greenhouses of Garreg Mach. The school year had only begun less than three months previous, but things seemed to be going reasonably well on the school front. At least, Byleth hoped so. They had only just returned from a week long excursion into the fields of the Adrestian Empire for an exercise in outdoor survival. It hadn't gone well. Dimitri nearly ate poison mushrooms, Ashe had been caught by the ankle by a snare Petra had set, and most of the students had not been able to properly erect their shelters or build any fires until the middle of the night of the first day due to an unexpected rain shower. Things improved significantly from there, however, despite extensive warnings on the more subtle dangers of the forest, Mercedes accidentally walked through a patch of particularly nasty rash vine, a plant similar to poison ivy, but resistant to the same remedies. Though comparatively rarer than its cousin, the vine's namesake wound was prone to leaving scars and severe open sores for over a week afterwards. Thankfully, Mercedes quickly realized the nature of her predicament and refrained from scratching and making the sore larger, but the nature of such wounds being contagious left her quite alone for most of the trip, aside from Annette helping her wash her clothes and Dedue stating he was immune to the effects of rash vine, and allowed Mercedes to remain with him for much of the survival test.

Byleth winced slightly at the memory of Mercedes limping on her severely affected leg as they hiked back into Garreg Mach. He felt somewhat responsible, as he had picked the location. Thankfully, after a consultation with Manuela, she told Byleth of a particular variety of white flower which, when ground into paste, relieved most of the symptoms of rash vine almost instantly, though it would take several applications. It was a white flower with a long, slender stem; a fetching plant, indeed. With little ado, he picked a large quantity of the flowers, not entirely sure how many he'd need for the task. That said, given the almost universal love of the flowers or other trinkets he gave to those celebrating birthdays and other significant life events, he was certain that whatever leftover flowers would make a very suitable get well gift and apology for his lack of vigilance.

It was a surprisingly short walk from the greenhouses to Mercedes' dorm room, and with only enough hesitation to retain a proper grip on the mortar, pestle, and small bottle for the paste to go into, he knocked politely on the door. It took but a few moments for Mercedes to respond.

"Hmm? Who is it?"

Byleth cleared his throat quietly before responding. "It's Byleth, or, rather, Professor Eisner. I spoke with Manuela and she told me about a remedy for rash vine. I would like to give it to you, if possible."

There was a fairly loud thump, but a quick reply nevertheless. "Oh! Professor! Certainly. Please give me a moment; you caught me at a disadvantage…"

Byleth raised an eyebrow at that, but waited patiently as the sounds of rustling and quick movement could be heard through the door until at last a disheveled Mercedes all but stumbled out of the door. It was almost comical how her hair sat in disarray, half covering her face and everywhere in an impressive case of bed head. Additionally, her robe was inside out and crooked, her slippers were on the wrong feet, and a lone strip of bandage was hanging off of her leg, through the bottom of the hastily thrown on robe. To his credit, Byleth didn't react outwardly, but he had to make an effort not to allow his amusement at Mercedes' disarray to color his voice as he held up the collection of flowers. Before he could react, though, Mercedes gasped lightly and quickly fixed her hair, though she was smiling this time.

"Oh, professor! Thank you! Though isn't it tradition for the women to give white flowers during Garland Moon?"

Byleth's expression, impassive as it normally was, died an ugly death as his neutral expression morphed quickly from confusion, realization, surprise, and finally, embarrassment. How such a thing could look never occurred to him, and he wondered if Manuela intentionally timed her revelation of this cure with one of the first days of Garland Moon. Regardless, the books she showed him were legitimate, though the timing could certainly have been better. "Oh, romance was not the intent behind this particular gift; my apologies for how this must look. I learned of a remedy for your ailment and it comes from these flowers, so I thought it best to make it as close to you as possible to ensure the swiftest treatment of your injury… And I also thoughtlessly believed it to be something of an apology gift for my lack of attention which led to your injury to begin with."

Mercedes let out a quiet laugh and stepped back to allow the professor into her chambers. A prospect that, thinking about it now, looked even worse considering the accidental gift he had presented. Silent self-reprimand aside, he quickly set the bundle of flowers onto Mercedes' nightstand and set to work, pointedly not looking around the room to attempt to save himself even a shred of dignity. "I apologize for how this may look. I promise I only intended to help."

Mercedes smiled and waved off the apology. "It's fine. This is hardly the worst thing that could have happened. Besides, if you have something that can help, I would be more than happy to try; the rash vine certainly lives up to its name in the worst of ways."

Byleth nodded and quickly made a fairly significant amount of paste from just a few of the flowers. After collecting it from the mortar and putting it into the jar he'd brought, he nodded decisively and turned to go. "I am sorry once again. I hope the salve works. Please, keep the flowers and speak to Manuela if you need to make more. Thank you for your time." With that, he departed.

Mercedes simply giggle to herself, allowing her inner schoolgirl a moment to titter about the handsome professor taking care of her for a moment before setting to work actually applying the salve.

Interestingly, though, six years later, Mercedes would be giving him a garland of the same type of flowers for their intended purpose between a husband and wife.

* * *

**18\. Blonde**

The first time Byleth laid eyes on his students, they each stood out in a unique way; Dimitri's earnest posture, Felix's dismissive aloofness, and Annette's eagerness to name but a few. However, one of the most eye-catching things he noticed was a wonderful head of almost platinum blonde hair near the middle of the classroom. Being raised in a mercenary camp, practicality was king, and long hair did little but get in the way, so Byleth had only rarely seen hair any longer than his own father's. It was something of a realization that he was no longer a machine of war, but rather, an instrument of peacetime. He was grateful for his ability to keep his surprise off of his face, because the pause in his speech seemed natural enough that it could be played off as part and parcel to his inexperience. Nevertheless, Miss Martritz had his attention; despite the professional barrier he had to retain, he couldn't deny a certain level of interest, though nothing more.

Later in the week his opportunity came when Mercedes nearly fell into the fishing pond, and he grew to appreciate the softness of the person whose hair had initially intrigued him.

.x.X.x.

The next time Byleth contemplated Mercedes' hair was during the first mock battle between the houses. Sure enough, Mercedes nearly caught her hair on her bowstring and made a mess of things, not to mention the many times she narrowly avoided getting it caught on something in battle. Though it was equally impressive that she managed to avoid the hazards and remain almost entirely unflappable about it after the fact. Though he felt obligated to speak on the topic, Byleth found himself relieved when Mercedes kindly but firmly refused to change her hair when the suggestion came during dinner after the battle. Somehow, her hairstyle suited her, even in the midst of battle; unsuited to war as one might imagine, but nevertheless retaining some inner strength yet unknown. It was a strange sensation for the normally practical Byleth to willingly look the other way when it came to make his position known on the matter later, but he found himself more than able to live with it when he saw the relieved smile Mercedes sent his way.

.x.X.x.

The last thing Byleth saw as the canyon wall gave out from under him during the fall of Garreg Mach is the tear streaked face of Mercedes, the woman he had come to understand as the symbol of the inner strength of not only the Blue Lions, but himself as well. Though many scoff at the importance of a loving and peaceful heart, Byleth knew better than most the unrealized and unsung importance such a person has; his own unmoving organ a testament of that fact. He only wished, as the rock face crumbled and he fell to what he knew to be his death, that he could have had the privilege of running his fingers through her lovely hair just one time as her lover. He closed his eyes and imagined what could have been as he struck the water, felt a stone hit him in the head, and he knew no more.

.x.X.x.

It had been with great distress that Byleth had seen all of his precious Blue Lions, original members or those who joined later, in the state of disarray and want as they were. While some seemed better off than others, none could claim to be untouched by the war. Mercedes was, perhaps, the most staggering proof after Dimitri; gone was the beautiful and delicate girl he had known, instead replaced by a hardened and determined woman. He never wished to see a time which necessitated Mercedes to cut her hair and ride to battle, used to the gore and screams of the wounded. Upon his return, he would admit only in the most private confidence that he cried the night he saw what the war had done to his ex-students. He cried hardest of all for the loss of the happiness amongst those he treasured, especially Dimitri's descent into madness, and Mercedes' quietly lost hope.

Byleth vowed that night, alone in the makeshift bed in what had once been his office, that he would make things right, and rebuild the world to be a place where Mercedes could smile freely again, and no longer be forced to cut her hair.

.x.X.x.

The day the war ended, Byleth could only sag in relief and also a deeply-seated sadness as he watched the long process of clearing away the shadow of war began. He could only watch as Edelgard was laid to rest personally by Dimitri, and if not for the delicate touch of Mercedes' hands, hardened by war but nevertheless gentle as a mother's hand upon a newborn babe, wrapped around his own as all of Edelgard's surviving classmates took turns burying the leader which had caused so much strife in her pursuit of her ideals. As the headstone was dictated in the royal cemetery, Byleth could only muse that Edelgard did eventually get what she wanted; freedom from her crest and equality for all, for in death, Edelgard followed king and pauper alike on the road of history, a great landmark and testament to the strength of her will, but, ultimately, her aspirations were not to be.

Byleth's hand squeezed Mercedes' as he stood alone with her at Edelgard's grave, silent, but speaking volumes when he hugged his companion and allowed himself to cry in front of another person for the first time. He clutched Mercedes close, his fingers running through her shortened hair as he whispered his thanks for being with him. For being there for all of them. For being the true reason he continued to press onward.

Mercedes simply smiled and returned the hug with all the warmth she could muster.

.x.X.x.

When Byleth raised Mercedes' veil on their wedding day, Byleth could only marvel at the immense beauty before him; Mercedes' happiness was tangible in her whole being, and though it had not fully returned to its original glory, Byleth found himself admiring Mercedes' re-growing hair as a sign of the rebirth of peace and order in Fódlan; of the hardy nature of humanity, and of the hope of a better future. When they finally said, 'I do', and bound themselves in matrimony, Byleth promised himself that he would see to it that the happy days outnumbered the dark ones, and that he would see to it that Mercedes never would be forced to pick up a weapon against her will again.

* * *

_**A.N.**_

_**I thank each and every person who has read this small collection of **_**_stories from the bottom of my heart. Though reviews are few and this pairing is rare, I intend to write more for this particular one, though for now I will work on other personal projects for the time being. I hope all who see this have an excellent day, evening, or morning._**


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